Sleep Woes
by IsabellaBrandybuck
Summary: A tweenage Frodo is much too excited following the annual May Festival to get to sleep, much to the frustration of his Uncle Bilbo. No slash, sex, or foul language.


"Wasn't the May festival simply brilliant this year?" Frodo Baggins asked as he skipped ahead of Bilbo, occasionally gazing up at the darkening sky. In deed, it had been a brilliant afternoon, with plenty to do for hobbits of all ages.

"Yes of course, Frodo, I enjoyed myself very much," Bilbo replied, chuckling.

"Can you believe I won the kite flying contest?" Frodo held the small trophy proudly in one hand, a kite version of Smaug the dragon in his other. The two cousins had spent nearly a week creating the rather impressive work of art, and it had been well worth the effort.

"I'm very proud of you, lad," Bilbo said honestly, giving the tweenager's dark chestnut curls an affectionate ruffle.

They arrived at Bag End just in time for supper, and even though plenty of goodies had been served at the festival, no hobbit could even consider missing a meal.

He knew it would take time for Frodo's excitement to dim, for though this was not the first May festival he attended in Hobbiton, but it was the first he attended since Bilbo adopted him that autumn.

Frodo entered the smial first, carefully setting his kite on the parlor floor, right beside the fireplace.

"Ruby Proudfoot thought it looked nearly real," Frodo said. "She told me the eyes made all the difference. I'm glad we used a few jewels as opposed to paper. How they sparkled in the sun!" he smiled, though the idea of meeting Smaug in person made him shudder. How Bilbo managed to survive his encounter baffled the younger hobbit, but the adventures to the Lonely Mountain certainly provided wonderful stories.

"Thankfully it is only a kite, my boy," Bilbo said, leading the way into the kitchen.

"And Gandalf's fireworks...always excellent!" Frodo clapped his hands, and then his smile turned to a frown. "Such a shame he couldn't come back with us after the party."

"Gandalf has his own business to take care of," Bilbo answered calmly, and began to pull food from the pantry. "Don't you worry, Frodo-lad. He'll come to stay with us for a visit soon enough, I'm sure, whether we are ready for him or not." He winked, and Frodo giggled.

They set about creating a fine meal for supper: cream of brocolli soup, freshly buttered biscuits, and of course, Bilbo's famous lemon flavored trout and rosemary tinted potatoes. Raisin scones and cherry tart remained to be eaten for dessert, and cups of warm milk to drink sat beside the plate.

Frodo ate with a hearty appetite, Bilbo supposed had been caused from all the walking. The lad was still too thin for the older hobbit's liking, and he spent the past several months in what appeared to be a vain attempt at fattening him up. Frodo ate as much as any other hobbit, but never seened to gain an ounce.

"Slow down, lad," Bilbo warned. "Your food won't run away from you!"

Frodo looked a little guilty when he stopped eating for a moment. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bilbo," he replied. "I'm just so hungry."

Bilbo smiled thoughtfully, finishing what remained on his own plate.

Frodo helped Bilbo clean the dishes following dessert, and the two sat outdoors in the garden, watching the stars.

"Do you think Gandalf watches the stars too, when he goes on his journeys?" Frodo asked, swinging his short legs aimlessly from where he sat on the wooden bench. He adored the scent of Bilbo's pipe, which the older hobbit smoked every evening.

"I'm sure he does, Frodo," Bilbo replied, blowing a smoke ring, which vanished after a few moments. "In fact, Gandalf is the one who taught me the different constellations," he continued. "Do you see that large one there?" he pointed upward, and Frodo craned his neck to look.

"Yes," he said.

"That is called the North Star. If you're ever lost, my boy, follow it, and it will bring you home."

Frodo smiled thoughtfully, leaning his dark, curly head against his Uncle's shoulder.

"I suppose it is getting close to your bed time, lad," he announced, and Frodo blinked his large blue eyes, sitting up straighter.

"No...I'm not sleep, honest, Uncle Bilbo. I'd rather sit out with you for a bit longer."

Bilbo cleared his throat. "Now Frodo, you're still young, and you need your rest. It's been quite a long day. How about I draw a nice warm bath, and then I'll tell you the story of how I rescued the dwarf king Thorin Oakensield?"

Frodo's ears pricked with excitement. He loved hearing Bilbo talk of the dwarves, and especially Thorin, who initially did not think Bilbo could handle his burglar duties.

"I'd like that," Frodo replied, and followed his guardian back into Bag-End. He always imagined what the day had been like when the thirteen dwarves showed up. He hadn't seen a single one...they apparently did not come to the Shire and hadn't been since that fateful evening.

Bilbo did show Frodo once his collection of Balin' s letters, which came often enough.

The warm lavender scented bath felt wonderful, and Frodo listened as his Uncle hummed a tune, not before reminding the tweenager to wash behind his ears.

"I will," Frodo called, and gazed out the privy window, sighing happily.

Once out of the tub and into his pajamas, Frodo crawled into bed, allowing Bilbo to tuck him in.

"Now then. I promised you a story, so I shall adhere to that promise." Bilbo pulled up a chair beside the bed, and Frodo kept his eyes focused on his Uncle's slightly wrinkled face.

Frodo closed his eyes when Bilbo began his tale, picturing the pale orc and his large white wolf, charging at full speed towards Thorin. He could actually hear the clangs of swords, the smell of smoke from the flames, and of course, the snap of the quickly tumbling pine with the remaining dwarves clinging on for dear life.

"One day I hope you'll have the chance to fly on the back of a great eagle," Bilbo continued, "Magnificent, seeing the world from so high."

"Weren't you frightened?" Frodo asked, his eyes wide, and Bilbo chuckled. "I'd be afraid of falling off!"

Bilbo nodded. "Naturally I was quite terrified at first, because if I did fall I'm almost certain I would not be with you now."

Frodo shivered at the idea. "I'm glad you are still here, Uncle," He said, and Bilbo squeezed the child's hand.

"As am I," he agreed. "And when Thorin awoke, he felt dreadful saying all of those awful things, and we have been strong friends ever since." He smiled softly. "Now lad, it's time for you to close those lovely blue eyes and get some sleep." He placed a kiss on Frodo's forehead, before blowing out the candle.

Frodo fiddled with the edge of his quilt, not at all ready for sleep just yet.

"Uncle? Might I have a glass of water, please?"

Bilbo stopped short of the doorway, and glanced over his shoulder.

"Of course, lad. I'll be right back." He scurried into the kitchen, and Frodo snuck out of bed, padding over to the window. What a brilliant night! He leaned his elbows on the windowsill, and took a breath. He kept his eye on the North star, not difficult to loose sight of.

When Bilbo returned, he cleared his throat, getting the tweenager's attention at once. Frodo clambered back under the covers, looking sheepish, and accepted the glass.

He drank it down quickly, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

"Are you all right now?" Bilbo asked with a raised eyebrow, taking the empty glass, and Frodo glanced at the window again.

"It is a bit warm in here," he admitted, and Bilbo blinked. "Could you open the window a crack, please?"

Bilbo did just that, and then placed another kiss on the boy's cheek. "All right, my dear, to sleep with you. I will see you in the morning at breakfast."

"What will we have for breakfast?" Frodo asked, and Bilbo frowned.

"Pardon?" He folded his arms.

"I'd like to imagine how lovely everything will be."

Bilbo shook his head with dismay. "How about some hot cakes and sausages? Perhaps with a touch of syrup and jam?"

Frodo thought about that for a moment. "How about oatmeal with honey and cinnamon? And fresh orange juice?"

Bilbo laughed. "Whatever you like, my boy. Now please get some sleep. I'm only just down the hall if you need me."

Frodo nodded, once again turning his gaze towards the window and the world outside when the door gently clicked shut. His mind still continued to race from the thrill of the day, and he slid off the bed again, gazing once more up at the moon more closely. If he lived at Brandy Hall, there were plenty of cousins his age to keep him company if sleep failed. Now living with Bilbo, that prospect would be more difficult, because the elder hobbit did in deed need more sleep than a tweenager.

The longer he sat there letting his imagination run wild, he swore he could hear the raspy voie of the creature Gollum in the darkness. Frodo's ears pricked with alarm, and he whirled around, half expecting to see the beast in the room with him. When he couldn't see anything other than the desk, chair, bed and old clothing press, he sighed with relief.

Frodo closed his eyes and opened them again, finding himself in a dark cave. How the bedroom transformed so quickly, he was unsure, but Frodo reached at his side and found a small sword. "Where are you, you dreadful beast?" Frodo asked, and listened as water dripped from the cave ceilings, being mindful of not slipping into the underground lake. To this very day he refused to go on the water, terrified of ending up on the same predicament as his parents. Bilbo tried to convince him to go fishing with him on the lake in Hobbiton, and as enjoyable as it sounded, he decided to learn from the safety of the lush bank.

Frodo crawled through the dark cave slowly, hearing Gollum's voice everywhere. My, that creature was stealthy!

When he approached Gollum at last, the creature began to shout, though the shout almost sounded like a violent hiss: "THIEF! THERE'S THE THIEF! AFTER BAGGINSES, PRECIOUS, HE STOLE IT FROM US..."

Frodo yelped and began running in the opposite direction, tripping on a particuarily large stone, tumbling with a splash into the lake...'

"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo cried out instinctively, though he knew Bilbo wasn't in the cave with him. He struggled against the cold water, and closed his eyes, waiting for the end...

"Frodo, lad, what in heaven's name..."

Bilbo had woken up to the sound of his nephew's cry and the sound of a thud, and immediately abandoned the book he'd been reading in his own bed.

Frodo peeped out from the blankets that coated his small, thin form, which he mistook for drowning in real water.

"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo could see the elder hobbit standing in the doorway, a candle in his hand, looking awfully worried.

"What happened? Did you have a nightmare, or were you play acting again?" Bilbo tried to look stern, which was nearly impossible sometimes. He knew Frodo inherited his massive imagination from his guardian, who gave him plenty of ammunition with his endless tales.

"It's no use, Uncle," Frodo grumbled, removing himself at last from the tangle of blankets, and began to replace them on the bed. "I can't get to sleep. At least, not anytime soon."

Bilbo set the candle on the nightstand, and pulled up a chair beside the bed, clasping his nephew's hand in his own.

"I had such a good time today," Frodo continued. "I wish it could have lasted forever."

Bilbo smiled gently. "Forever is a long time, my lad," he said. "If things lasted forever, we wouldn't ever get to try something new. I do understand, though, about not being tired. I supposed I'm not very sleepy myself, either." He released his grip on Frodo's hand, and leaned back against the seat. "What do you say to a midnight hike, my lad? I think some exercise and fresh air will do us both a world of good, and no doubt finish us off when we get home." He was pleased to find the child's expression perk up a great deal, and Frodo sat up straight.

"Truly, Uncle?" he asked.

"Absolutely. Bother the should's and shouldnt's of a hobbit, and it's not as though we're expecting callers. We'll be able to sleep the day away if we wish." He winked, and Frodo crawled out from under the covers, anxious to be off. "Now Frodo, put on something comfortable and warm, and meet me in the parlor."

Frodo used the candlelight to fumble through the press and putting on his clothing. He finished dressing first and waited for his guardian in the parlor, using Bilbo's chair. The smial was rather chilly without a fire lit, but he did not have to wait all that long.

Bilbo soon joined his nephew, and both carried a napsack and walking stick as they left Bag-End. It was in deed a peaceful evening, the stars and moon continuing to shine brightly like diamonds against the ink black sky.

"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo looked up at his guardian, who peered down at the child's voice.

"Yes, lad?" he asked, making certain not to walk too quickly.

"I'm glad I'm here with you. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the whole Shire."

Bilbo wrapped an arm around the tweenger's shoulders, trying to fight the lump growing in his throat. "I'm glad you're with me, too," he replied. He didn't add that he wished Frodo had been with him on the journey to the Mountain, for it would have made the trip a lot less lonesome.

They wandered through Hobbiton, not at all surprised to find most of the smials dark, knowing the rest of the town had gone to sleep. Frodo listened as Bilbo hummed an old tune quietly under his breath, and Frodo tugged on his sleeve.

"What was it like?" he asked, and Bilbo arched an eyebrow.

"What was what like, my lad?"

"When the dwarves first came? I've always wondered why they don't come visiting, as Gandalf does."

Bilbo chuckled, shivering a little in the cool breeze. "I must admit, Frodo-lad, that the first visit was quite dreadful. I'd never been treated so shamefully in my whole life."

Frodo giggled. "Oh Uncle, I'm sure it wasn't all that bad," he insisted.

"You've never seen my pantry bare before, have you?" Bilbo asked, and Frodo released a gasp. Of course he hadn't...Bilbo always managed to keep his smial well stocked with good, hearty food. "One thing I must make sure you know, my boy, is that visitors are wonderful, but only when they are known first. Do not invade someone's home unless you've called properly, and they've responded. But of course, you know such manners. Dwarves on the other hand..." he smiled, and Frodo grinned back.

"Yes, Uncle."

He knew better than to argue.

They wandered for a good hour and a half before he felt as though he might collapse right on the soft grass, and wondered if he would in deed make it back to Bag End.

"My poor lad," Bilbo chuckled warmly when he noticed Frodo's drooping eyes, and he stopped walking. "I suppose this was just the remedy we both needed." He gave a loud yawn, and lifted Frodo into his arms, beginning the trek back home.


End file.
